ASP 3:a fic far, far away from making sense
by Jonn Wood
Summary: The AntiSue Police are headed into Order 66. Knuckle up.
1. Chapter 1

Jonn Wood was feeling more than slightly antsy. And not because he was getting his butt signed, sealed, and handed to him by some ex-Special Forces guy.

Ever since his near-death-of-stupid, the Anti-Sue Police had required mandatory combat training. Jonn had done fairly well for a guy who's most strenuous physical activity in years consisted of walking from the bus stop to his college. However, his former confidence in his hand-to-hand skills was shattered upon meeting his CQC instuctor, a large black guy by the unlikely name of Chiumbo. Chumby, as he was affectionately known, was the kind of guy who women hurry to their cars to get away from, only to find that he saves them from a would-be purse snatcher and disappears into the night. So far, he had blocked every attack, and landed Jonn face down on the practice mat four times. The galling part was that Jonn's glasses were still perfectly intact.

_Whump._

Five times.

"Isn't this a bit off?" said Jonn, circling, looking for an opening. "I mean, how all of a sudden, they've stepped up the training?"

"Well," said Chumby conversationally, "you _did_ achieve the dubious honor of being the first ASP agent to nearly get killed by directly engaging a Sue." He did a little Morpheus-shuffle, and used the split second of Jonn's distraction to launch a palm strike to Jonn's left shoulder, telegraphing like crazy. Jonn, to his credit, rolled with the hit and used his momentum to get onto the outside of Chumby's arm. In perfect Tae-Bo fashion, his right arm snuck under Chumby's into a low hook aimed at his instuctor's stomach. Unfortunately for him, said instructor spun away from the blow, and his elbow smacked right into the side of Jonn's head.

_Whump._

Six times. Down goes Wood. No pun intended.

"Wood, Chumby, please report to the AYB-02351 conference room," came a treacley voice from the room's speakers.

Jonn and Chumby both ran through the SpeedShower and hurriedly pulled on their uniforms. The ASP HQ didn't have any interior ring transporters, and the elevators were broken, so they had to take the stairs. Seven minutes and 14.67 seconds after the summons—there was a giant clock on the room's plasma display—Jonn stumbled into the room. Chumby, of course, strode in, the perfect picture of a man who knows he's twice as healthy as everyone else in the room.

"Jonn! Chumby!" said Caina dryly. "How nice of you to grace us with your pres-"

"Shut up," said Jonn. "You knew we were sparring in the gym, and that it would take us a while to get here from there, especially since we had just been engaged in physically draining activity. You also knew that the elevators are down, and besides, we're in a building located in a scientifically impossible location in space-time. You can spare a few minutes."

There was a brief, awkward silence. Then the man at the head of the table spoke up. He had a salt-and-pepper beard, hiding a chin long gone soft. He was also dressed in a denim jacket with the sleeves rolled up. This was Mr. L-.

"Very observant, Mr. Wood. I hope you bring that to your next mission."

With a sinking heart, Jonn looked at the people seated at the table. Simmons, Ciara, some others. With the exception of Chumby and L-, all people who had mentioned being given extra strenuous training. That meant...

"You're next mission is in the middle of Episode III. Specifically, Order 66. There is a Mary Sue there who's doing untold damage to canon. Your job is to find her and neutralize. If you see any characters dying, or being killed, _you are not to assist_, do you understand? Good. Yes, Simmons?"

"Do we-"

"No. No lightsabers."

"Aw."


	2. Chapter 2

**SPOILER WARNING**  
The rest of this fic contains several spoilers for both _Star Wars: Episode 3_ and Matthew Stover's _Star Wars:Shatterpoint_. Read at your own risk, though Shatterpoint is an excellent novel which you should've read already.

* * *

The rings were larger this time. 

In fact, it logically followed that if the transport rings needed x amount of space to transport one person, then they would need a certain more amount of space to handle the person and a stainless steel case full of killin' sticks. Not to mention killin' balls, and fancy goggles.

Jonn liked to think about these things. It helped keep his mind off of Simmons sulking about not getting a lightsaber.

It didn't make sense, really, since SImmons had already built several.

The cases opened, naturally, to the combination 042, but it took a while for the team to figure out how to loop the belts around themselves. While they were doing so, SImmons drifted over to Jonn.

"_I have a bad feeling about this,_" he whispered.

"Very funny."

"No, I'm serious. You've felt it too; I know you have. That snake curling at the bottom of your gut, the absolute certainty, lurking at the back of your mind, that something is about to go horribly wrong."

Simmons was inches from Jonn's face, and for a moment, he looked into his eyes and saw the fear there—

"Get a room, you two."

They turned. Somehow, everyone had gathered around Caina and had started listening to her berate them. Seems she was the _de facto_ leader. Jonn didn't have a problem; he figured that one time with the Teen Titans was a fluke.

Simmons and Jonn disengaged and walked over to Caina. In a few deftly chosen words, she explained their plan of attack; follow their scanners until they found their Sue. Neutralize any canon characters with superior force, defeat the Sue, and report to the extraction point. The signal-jamming in effect around the Jedi Temple somehow prevented them from leaving easily, so they had to leave two agent on guard. Their job was to seek and defeat, leaving as little imprint on canon as possible. This was, as Simmons quipped, a sneaking mission. Any questions? No? Load up, and move out.

It was simple, really. SImmons manned the scanner and directed them, while Caina took point. The problem arose when they walked straight into Nick Rostu, from Star Wars:Shatterpoint. It was a remarkable feeling, to have a character ripped from the pages of a book to point a rifle at them. Jonn had no doubt that he could kill them all, if needed.

"Who the _frag_ are you (expletive)heads?" The gun was rock steady.

Everyone had already frozen. Jonn, being the only one who had read his book, took the initiative.

"We're a covert ops team," he said, keeping his hands where Rostu could see them. "We were assigned to Jedi support and abandoned when Order 66 was initiated." he paused, then took a shot in the dark. "Like you."

Nick's hands trembled, and he lowered his gun. "Oh thank expletive! I've been hiding...and they're dead...all of them..." He started shaking, and Jonn reflected that this was a guy who came up with the idea to use thorns to nail a chip in a dead woman's mouth, in order to lure one of the most powerful Jedi alive. What on earth would it take to spook him?

They found out.

* * *

The Jedi Temple: a haven of peace and stability, and, for centuries, home to the beings about whom legends were made. Now transformed into a see of carnage. Hundreds of Jedi, cut down where they stood. Since this was the Jedi temple, a good amount of them weren't even carrying their lightsabers. 

The clone troopers, being unsentimental labout such things, hadn't even wiped the blood off the walls.

The ASP agents all reacted differently. Chumby's face had simply tightened. Nick was looking fixedly at the walls. Caina was on her knees, staring numbly at the corpse of a child with half of his head missing, a practice lightsaber cut in half by a stray blaster bolt. Simmons and the other redshirts-Jonn still hadn't learned their names-had openly retched, and he was starting to feel bile rising up in his throat himself.

"We have to move," he said to no one in particular. To Chumby: "Can you snap Caina out of it?"

He nodded, and crossed over to the girl. A few seconds later, Jonn heard a slapping noise, and a gasp. He was busying himself picking up the broken lightsaber-the troopers must have policed the rest-and putting it in an ASP standard issue anti-Rad container. He didn't know how lightsabers worked, beyond the fact that they used crystals, and could be charged off of blaster canisters in an emergency. Blasters used, if he remembered correctly, galvanized plasma. Plasma was radioacti-

_Stop that, _said a cool voice in the back of his head. _Focus_.

He took a few deep breaths, and realized that they had started moving out. He fell in next to Simmons and Chumby, and behind Caina, who was pumping Nick, on her left, for intel. They were discussing the armour thickness of clone troopers when Jonn noticed the shadow falling from around the corner.

Everything slowed to a crawl.

Jonn reached forward for the back of Caina's collar. Dimly, he saw Chumby grabbing for Nick's. As his head cleared the corner, he saw the backlit trooper. Somehow, he heard the click as the gauntleted hand pulled the trigger, and his own hand just missed the back of Caina's collar as the blaster bolt tore her right arm off.

Nick and Chumby automatically drew and fired, and Jonn found that he was firing blindly at the trooper. Caina was lying semi-prone against the wall, and Simmons was poking frantically at her badge.

"This is no time to cop a feel!" Jonn yelled at him.

"I'm not," said Simmons, blinking sweat out of his eyes. He tapped his own badge. "Simmons to ASP! Simmons to ASP! Emergency Medical Transport now! Signal enhancers activated! Caina has been shot! _Caina has been shot_! Right arm lost, potential for bleedout high! Get her the #$ out of her _now_!"

The transport was different this time. Caina was surrounded by blue sparks, and began to glow, and by the time Jonn's eyes cleared, she was gone.

"What the &# was _that_?" said Nick.

Jonn took a few deep, calming breaths; he seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Why was everyone looking at him?

One more breath, and he turned to Nick.

"My name is Jonathan Wood. This is my fandom. You're going to die."


	3. Chapter 3

The ASP team were all sitting around in various levels of alertness. Jonn was leaning against a wall, and Nick was trying to deal with having his world shattered around him.

"So you're saying that I'm some bit player in a comissioned novel based on a new iteration of a series? An iteration which should never have been made, according to the franchise's fans?" Nick's hands twitched on the holster of his gun. "How do I know you're not lying to me?"

"You're surrounded by armed men," Jonn pointed out. "We're using weapons of a make you've never seen before, and we're not clone soldiers." He paused for effect. "If we wanted to kill you, you'd be dead. He peeked around the corner. Still clear. "Either way, we have a job to do. You can come with us, or you can stay here. Your choice."

Jonn turned to the team. "Mount up!" He paused. "Always wanted to say that."

* * *

After a short time, Jonn ordered the team to halt. He had picked up a large number of blasters, and a handful of lightsabers, in a large chamber ahead. Proceed with caution. 

So the team proceeded with caution.

If the unit of storm-no-_clone_ troopers had been paying attention, they would've noticed the small group of black-uniformed youth walking into the room. As it was, they were too busy trying to draw a bead on one particular Jedi, one who was leaping and jumping and slashing with nary a scratch on her. The plasma wasn't even mussing her long, waist-length blue hair.

Jonn blinked. Huh.

"Trooper! Report!"

Thankfully, Jonn's bluff held. The nearest trooper snapped to attention and outlined the situation. Standard patrol, encountered resistance. Must be some kind of master Jedi. Wasn't on any of the Jedi rosters they were given. Possibly from a secret weapons development program, _sir_.

"Hold fire," said a voice. Jonn turned to look into the face of the deadliest man in the galaxy. A pale-skinned youth clad in a dark cloak, his lightsaber plainly visible at his side.

Darh Vader looked briefly at Jonn, nodded, and kept moving. He probably thought he was an emperor supported spy or officer of some sort, and obviously unworthy of comment. Jonn was going to do absolutely nothing to disabuse him of the notion. As the Sith Lord passed, he could _feel _himself being pushed out of the way.

Skywalker walked up to the girl, who had let her weapons shrink to nothingness.

"Hello," she said tiredly.

"Hello," said the Sith.

Then they kissed.

Jonn distantly heard someone say "Oh, come _on_," and watched distantly as his body walked up to the two adolescents, who ber busy slobbering and blubbering all over each other. His arms shoved the two apart with a growled "excuse me, Lord Vader", and bought his weapon up against the girl's forehead.

"Who-" she started to say.

"Caina," said Jonn. He pulled the trigger.

There was a burst of light as her head exploded. Anakin blinked. "Who-" His mouth was dry. "What-"

"She's a Sue," explained Jonn, as he searched among her clothes. "She'll regenerate in seconds." Her still-glowing head was already starting to grow back. "Unless we take...this." He held up a gold chain with a cross on it.

"The letter T? I don't understand," said Vader, his eyes going slightly out of focus.

"The Christian cross. It's a symbol of redemption." Jonn clenched his fist around it, then slowly slipped it off the chain, putting it on the silver chain he was wearing.

"I-" said the Sue, an impressive feat with most of her mouth missing. "I-" She managed to raise one hand, then vanished like a puff of smoke.

The two men were silent.

"What was _that_?"

"Looked like a lesser Mandalorian Tetramorph," said Jonn. "You're lucky I was here to save you."

"I-" said Vader. Any second now, his mind would clear, and he'd realize something was wrong.

"I'll just take these," said Jonn, scooping up the two lightsabers, "and be on my way."

He walked back to his team, and cuided them around the corner and down a hall. When they were out of hearing range, he held up a clenched fist, and the team halted. Wordlessly, he tossed one saber to Simmons, and clipped the other onto his belt.

They were all looking at him, expecting him to have guidance, to have answers, to give them a path, some clear direction.

"Now what?" he asked.


End file.
